Recovery
by AntebellumHope
Summary: Donnie's mental and medical skills are pushed to the limit as the clan deals with their most crushing defeat. Being the family medic comes with a lot of responsibility, and it means making sure no one ever dies in your arms. Post-Exodus/Post-Cousin Sid.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing Donatello noticed wasn't that he was awake nor was it that he was alive and capable of coherent thought. It wasn't the blinding whiteness of the room or that too clean smell of a sterilized trauma unit. No, the first thing he noticed was the glass of water on the small table at his shoulder. And he _lunged_ for it. In hindsight, that was probably the stupidest, most impulsive decision he'd ever made. The tiny throbbing sensation - so insignificant that he didn't bother checking its source - abruptly roared and clawed into every nerve in the right half of his body. Only barely catching himself on the bed's rails, he sat back against the headboard with a pained grunt. He narrowed his eyes at the glass. It was taunting him.

_Well, if you wait long enough, surely a nurse or an orderly will come by and...you...can_

Suddenly **very** awake, Donnie took a much better look at his surroundings. His right arm was in a sling and strapped firmly to his plastron. He wasn't cuffed to the bed. An IV stand hovered over him, but near as he could tell, it had been a normal saline drip. The room itself was clean to the point of having been spit-shined with a toothbrush. There were no guards, no other patients, no doctors. Just him in a bed with scratchy sheets in the middle of a room that was shrinking more by the minute. He slowly blew out two breaths from pursed lips to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

_I'm in a lab or a hospital, and I'm alone._

His next thought wormed its way from his brain to his stomach, and he had to fight a very strong urge to retch.

_Where is my family?_

And just before he worked himself into a frothing fit of anxiety, the door burst open, and who of all beings should storm in but Mortu, commander of the Utrom Legion. Don almost laughed in relief.

Mortu and his exo-suit looked him up and down once before demanding, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, eveything's good, my friend." Donnie said cheerfully. "I'm sorry to cause such a racket. I woke up and I didn't know where I was and…"

"You panicked." Mortu finished. He tugged at a stack of sheets that Donatello assumed were his medical charts hanging on the adjacent wall.

"Mortu?"

The Utrom glanced up warily.

Don licked his lips. "Why am I in here?"

If it had been possible for the alien to heave a heavy sigh, Don was sure his friend would have done just that. "What do you remember, Donatello?"

The turtle shut his eyes and concentrated on the last few strings of thought he'd had before he noticed the water. He remembered being together and they were all sad….no, _resigned_ to an inevitable death.

_Death?_ He pressed harder against his temple. _I'm right there. _The sensation of flight...of being flung...of pain radiating throughout his being. _Go further. What caused the pain? Who threw you if the Shredder hadn't been-_

He almost couldn't make out the sound of his name over the series of blaring alarms.

"DONATELLO!" Mortu sounded agitated and shoved him out of the trance. "You _really_ must stop doing that."

Donatello barely heard the edge in the warning. "I remember everything." He paused. "How is it that I'm alive? Or is this some sort of near-death hallucination?"

Mortu chuckled. "I assure you, my friend, you are very much alive and recovering well." He went on to explain that Professor Honeycutt's message had gotten through and that he himself had led over half of the Legion's assault team to the android's last broadcasted position. "It was pretty close, but the stasis bubble contained the energy of the blast long enough for all parties aboard to be retrieved alive."

"Even the Shredder?" Donnie asked bitterly.

"Yes, even Ch'rell."

Don sighed and returned to ogling the glass. The sheer amount of energy expended in the brief exchange left his mouth feeling like he'd licked a cotton ball. Thankfully, Mortu followed his gaze and handed him the water.

"Drink it...slowly," he finished as Don drained the glass in one gulp. Mortu looked like he wanted to slap him. "I am honestly surprised you are awake already, Donatello."

Donnie stopped what he was doing - which was silently asking the glass in three different languages to make more water appear - and met Mortu's eyes. "Why?"

The exo-suit moved in the mimicry of a shrug. "The stress of the whole situation coupled with the extent of your injuries."

"Speaking of which," Don interjected, "Not that I'm complaining, but why am I in such little pain?"

"Our medics have already cleaned and dressed your wounds and set the break in your arm, and we are keeping you lightly doped on painkillers."

Don stared at the cast as if seeing it for the first time. "What kind of fracture was it?"

"A clean break through both the radius and the ulna."

"How long do I have to wear the cast?"

"At least six weeks, though Hau told me to recommend eight."

"What was the extent of the rest of my injuries?" He tugged his charts out of Mortu's hand, relieved to find that all of his vital signs were consistently normal.

"You had multiple lacerations and contusions on your face, neck, and arms, as well as a nasty gash on the upper left lumber region of your plastron, but everything below the transverse plane is relatively uninjured."

"Mmkay." Don absently scratched at the paper. "Prognosis?"

"Very good. In fact, you could probably get up now if you wished."

He had to admit the thought was tempting. His legs were beginning to cramp from being in one position too long. Swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he gratefully accepted the arm extended to him.

_If only the guys could see me now, stumbling around like a toddler._

_THE GUYS?_

He desperately clutched at the metal arm. "Mortu, where are my brothers? My father?"

He felt his heart beating furiously against his ribs as the Utrom cast his eyes to the ground.

"Follow me," he ordered quietly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So should I continue? And I've been staring at my computer for about two hours at this point, and I think I'm going cross-eyed. Please let me know if you see any glaring grammar or punctuation mistakes. Thanks, and lemme hear your thoughts!

And this was just brought to my attention: the first part of this story will be Post-Exodus as the turtles are awakening to find themselves alive aboard the Utrom's ship. The later parts will follow the days immediately after Sid's misadventure at the farmhouse with the Purple Dragons. Sorry for any confusion!


	2. Chapter 2

"Master Splinter is being treated in our critical care burn unit." Mortu's voice echoed off of the hallway walls. The narrow corridor was as white and harsh as his room had been and was considerably colder.

He swallowed thickly. "Critical?"

The exo-suit nodded.

"How bad?"

"He was in a lot of pain. We would like to keep him here for at least a day and replenish his fluids via intravenous drip."

They fell silent as Don worked to process the vulnerability of his master. The ship's infirmary was unnervingly still - not even the hum of machinery penetrated the walls. A slight tingling spread across his chest and became sharper as he walked. The buzzing high of the medication was dimming, and for once he decided he liked being drugged out of his mind. It was much less painful.

"Something wrong?" Mortu laid a hand on his good shoulder.

"Nothing," he hissed as he adjusted the sling.

The exo-suit cocked its head as Mortu considered him. "The medication is wearing off."

"Mortu, please." He hated the whine that crept into his voice. "Please, I need to see my family."

The Utrom continued walking as if he hadn't heard him. "This is Michelangelo's room." He paused to grab the charts before Donnie could snatch them. The door slid open with a pneumatic hiss and revealed a room that mirrored his own. Mortu felt Donatello freeze beside him.

"...Mikey?"

"He's sleeping right now." Mortu moved to check the sling that elevated both of Michelangelo's legs, which were in casts from the knees down. "Both of his legs have comminuted fractures. Unfortunately, the bones had already begun to fuse together by the time we were able to set them, so we had to break them again."

Donatello winced. "Is this the worst of it?"

Mortu stood aside as Don laid his palm on his baby brother's forehead. A low creeping moan escaped Mikey's lips, and he trembled under the weight of his nightmares.

"For Michelangelo, this is the worst. Minor cuts and bruises aside, nothing else is broken. But…" It was the first time Donnie had ever heard Mortu hesitate.

"What?"

"We cannot predict how well Michelangelo will recover his ability to walk. It may be that he is back to one hundred percent or it may be that he will walk with a slight to moderate limp."

"But he _will _walk again?"

"Barring no complications, yes."

"Then that's all we'll ask for."

Don barely noticed the proud grin curl up Mortu's mouth. He inched his way closer to the top of Mikey's bed and leaned down until their heads were touching. "Get well, ototo. I need a good laugh right about now."

As he moved to follow Mortu out into the hall, the dam finally ruptured. He shoved his fist in his mouth and let his chest heave in three shaky breaths.

_Come on, come on! Get a grip. They're alive and recovering. The Shredder's been captured and the world is about to have its justice._

A cool hand awkwardly rubbed his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

He barked out a sharp laugh. "I honestly don't know! Pissed at the Shredder? Relieved that my family is safe? Happy to be alive? We did it, y'know. We sent the power core into overload."

Mortu snapped his head around. "_You did what?_"

"We were ready. We were so ready. We were going to free the universe from the tyranny of Ch'rell." He spat the name like it was a vile poison. "We were commiTTING SUI_CIDE_!" His voice rose with each syllable, and he pummeled the wall with his fist.

Mortu worked his jaw up and down, trying not to short circuit from this latest tidbit of information. "Domo arigato, Hamato Donatello." He held a deep bow to a bewildered Donnie. "We will never be able to repay your sacrifice."

"Dōitashimashite, Mortu-san," the automatic response rolled off his tongue. "But please, how are Raph and Leo?"

Mortu sighed, as if trying to figure out how much information to reveal. "Raphael has four broken ribs, three on his left side, one on his right. Both of his lungs were punctured, and one of them had collapsed before we could get him into the operating room."

Donatello slid to the floor. "Ugh. This is not happening. Is...is he still in surgery?"

"Yes. He also sustained a severe laceration to his upper left arm. We don't know if the cause was debris from the explosion or the Shredder's gauntlet. It extends from the just below the acromioclavicular ligament to his elbow and is so deep that the humerus is exposed. Of all your family, we consider him the most grievously injured."

A numbness smothered the previous jumble of emotions, and he was suddenly so very, very tired. "How long will he be immobile?"

"He will need to lie as still as possible for the first three weeks, and movement after that needs to be limited to half an hour until you know how much exertion his body can take." The exo-suit patted his carapace. "I know it is hard, my friend, but all of you are in peak physical condition, which may help you heal ahead of schedule."

Donatello didn't protest as he was lifted to his feet. He made a mental list of the supplies he would need to have on hand as Mortu led him to the last room on the right. The Utrom continued to summarize the family's conditions like a narrator from a Stephen King novel.

"Leonardo is very lucky. Karai's blade entered his right shoulder, just under his clavicle. The angle of entry was so obtuse that it traveled through his chest cavity, behind his trachea, and came to rest just inside the lip of the left side of his carapace. The part of his spine that is not fused to his shell was untouched, which is a miracle. Several ligaments and tendons were damaged, and he may never wield a sword with as much power as he used to, but the odds are in his favor."

Donatello peered through the window to the bed on which lay his older brother. "Is he sleeping?"

The exo-suit shifted its weight from foot to foot. "We were actually hoping you could tell us."

"Say what?"

"We can't tell what level of consciousness he is floating in. His oxygen levels are too low for him to be sleeping but too high for him to be comatose. Can you tell if he is meditating?"

"Umm…" he pressed his hand against the glass and watched his breath outline his fingers in fog. "I'll need to be closer."

Mortu nodded and fell back as Don approached Leo. Leonardo held a stiff countenance in his stupor, arms straight at his sides. His eyes fluttered every now and then, and an uncharacteristically irate scowl disfigured his face.

"Leo?" He called tentatively. "Where are you, bro?" He laid his hand against Leo's cheek and concentrated, willing himself to find his brother.

_A stagnant darkness enveloped him as he searched. Its reach seemed limitless, and the heat it birthed could have evaporated the Great Lakes. He groped blindly for a few moments before his hand connected with an all too familiar sticky substance. Blood rained down from a fiery sky and pooled around the withering flora. The once pristine walls of a dojo crumbled like paper and eagerly lapped up the crimson liquid. His heart fluttered erratically as he approached the center of the wreckage._

_His brother lay in perfect imitation of his physical being on rotted tatami mats in the middle of the floor. He carefully knelt and put a hand to Leo's neck. The pulse was thready, but it was there. "Leo…"_

_Suddenly, Leonardo's eyes flew open, and he smiled at Donatello. He just smiled and smiled and stared with an eerily blank stare. "Leo-"_

_Leo caught his brother's throat before the latter could process the movement. Donatello wheezed as the pressure increased on his windpipe. Leonardo brought his bloodshot eyes up to Don's face and hissed, "If I find you in here again, I will kill you without a second thought. Now, _get. Out." _He roughly threw his little brother into a pile of debris and resumed lying on the tattered dojo floor._

Donatello collapsed as he was forced from what he sincerely hoped was not Leonardo's mind.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said shakily. "Leo's more or less -" _contemplating fratricide "- _meditating."

Mortu, blissfully unaware of the inner chaos now occupying both turtles' minds, tugged at Don's arm. "Once all of you are awake and lucid enough, Ch'rell's trial will begin."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I am quite pleasantly surprised by feedback for this one. Thanks to all of my readers, and an special thank-you to all of my reviewers. I'm sorry that it is mostly dialogue driven at this point, but there's not much else one can say about a big white infirmary. Does this style of writing work for the story thus far? Or does it seem too...sparse?

The rating change was a precaution for slightly more graphic medical procedures mentioned in later chapters. I have decent medical knowledge (as far as breaks and burns go) and an anatomy textbook. You have been warned.

I know that uploading two days in a row when the story is incomplete (and sometimes when it's finished) is slightly inadvisable, but if I don't do it now, I'm going to forget about it. It just seems unfair to sit on a chapter for more than a day if I've got it publish-ready.


	3. Chapter 3

Don was only half-listening as Mortu spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing Utrom legal procedures. It didn't sound that different from Earth's own legal proceedings, maybe a bit more efficient. As far as he understood, the trial itself was already underway. Donnie puzzled over the fact that his and his brothers' testimonies were seemingly overlooked.

Mortu sighed. "We already have a...substantial amount of evidence. The trial is just a formality at this point." Donnie noted the way the fingers of the exo-suit curled into a fist as his friend spoke. "With the amount of time it took to catch him, our prosecutors built up a solid case. Ch'rell maintains his…" he paused to bark out a laugh "..._innocence_ throughout the affairs between himself and the worlds he wronged."

Mortu shook off the frustration. The sharp click of his metal heels echoed along the corridor. "Come. There is much we need to see to before you leave."

Mortu continued his tour of the medical bay, outlining the streamlined flow of procedures and how those ideas had influenced early hospitals. It was more for distraction than anything, and Don was grateful. They met with various doctors and surgeons, some of whom had worked on Raphael.

"Your brother is a stubborn one, my friend," one of them - Hau was his name? - observed. "We were able to clear the air in his pleurae and re-inflate his lung. He began breathing on his own shortly after the surgery. All he needs for now is a few days' bed rest."

Donatello nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him. How should I moderate pain medications?"

Hau sketched out the appropriate meds and their dosages, as well as how often bandages needed to be changed. "We know that you are unable to obtain the supplies you need, so we have provided you with enough to last about a month. I wish we could do more."

Donnie sighed and blinked away the watering in his eyes as his busted arm scraped the wall. It wasn't lost on him how lucky they were he had only broken one arm. That wasn't to knock the others' medical abilities - they were all decent field medics. But for long term patient-doctor relations…yeah, they were lucky. He irritably passed a hand over his face. His own injury had him at a distinct disadvantage. He would need both of his arms to change dressings and clean wounds, not to mention keep up with charts and graphs and schedules and supplies had a distinct way of running out long before they were supposed to. He sighed again, knowing he needed to release some of the internal pressure before his thoughts got too far ahead of him. "Mortu? If you don't mind, I need something to write with and some paper."

"Of course."

The Utrom let him back into his room with the necessary supplies. Don supposed he had been radiating a need for solitude as Mortu had backed out silently and locked the door behind him.

"Let's see…" It helped to think aloud as he wrote, and he was unbelievably thankful that he was ambidextrous. "I'll need charts from the Utroms, dressings and disinfectants. I suppose I'll need to chart who ate or drank what and when, as well as basic vital signs." He brought a hand up to his chin and tapped out a tune thoughtfully. What else? "I'm not going to be able to get any of our stuff from the infirmary." He frowned.

No x-rays, no ultrasounds, no MRIs. No IV drips, no EKGs, no ventilators. Nothing at the farm house he could patch together that would be even remotely helpful. He would have to track progress or decline by external means alone. He grimaced. If something went wrong, he would have no way of knowing until it was or was near being too late. He had assurances that neither he nor his family would be removed from the Utroms' care until all were stable and able to handle the trip, but still. Anything could happen after that.

He tapped the pencil impatiently against his forehead. This was going to be impossible. Not for the first time, he cursed humanity's overwhelming tendency to kill anything even remotely different from the norm, and thus indirectly kill the chance of receiving the kind of help he - they all - needed.

"Donnie?"

His gaze flew to the doorway, which had slid open without his notice. He almost laughed. April was standing there, hair a jumble, eyes wide with fear, still in the party dress from the night before and a pair of worn tennis shoes.

"You really like having an excuse to get out, don't you?" He teased, hefting himself off the floor.

She swatted his good arm then smothered him in a hug. "What can I say? I'm just a party girl, y'know."

He laughed and it felt good. He met her eyes and ran a hand through her dirt-streaked hair. She bent down and kissed him soundly on the cheek, and he felt the heat rising in his face. "Don, please, don't ever do that again."

A crooked, almost ironic grin spread across his face. "Trust me, I am in no mood to repeat it."

She settled into the crook of his good arm and sat with him as he recapped all he had learned from Mortu about his - about _their_ - family. "I came in here to get a jump on everything that's going to have to be taken care of." He motioned to the sheet of paper and his illegible scribbles that filled half the page. "And that's about where you showed up. How'd you get up here anyway?"

He screwed up his eyes at her as she stretched.

"I...don't entirely know. Casey and I couldn't find you after the ship launched. He went to search the lair and the warehouse, and I kind of hung around my place, hoping you'd show up. When morning came, someone knocked on the door." She smiled. "I remembered Mortu from our last, er...meeting."

She knocked against him as he stifled his chuckles. "And here we are. I left Casey a note so he wouldn't freak, but knowing him, he's probably yelling at the sky like a madman."

Donatello's mirth was contagious and soon both of them were hugging their sides with laughter. "Oh, this...this is much better."

She cocked her head as a shadow passed over his face and the air of solemnity returned. "What's the matter?"

"Do you…" he hesitated. "Do you think we could use the farmhouse...again?"

"Don, stop it. You know he doesn't mind."

He looked away from her and seemed to be intent on boring a hole in the corner with his stare. "I know...it's just that…"

"...it's just that...?" She prompted, absently playing with the bandana tails draped over his shoulder.

He smacked the back of his head against the wall. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Do what?"

"THIS!" He gesticulated toward the paper that flew across the room with the sudden movement. "Piece my brothers, my father, me back together! Ugh, I'm just one person, April. You'd need like a whole team of nurses and specialists and therapists, so how much good can I really be?" He buried his face in his hand.

"Don." He didn't look at her. "Donnie! _Hamato Donatello!_"

The fact that _April_ used his full name in such an irritated manner got his attention more than the name itself.

"You will do the best that you can, and you will probably give as good or better care than any doctor ever could. Besides, you'll have Casey and me and -"

"April, I can't ask you to abandon your work _again_ because of us."

"Then don't ask. I'm still coming."

A grin tugged at his mouth. Stubborn woman. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." She pulled his head onto her shoulder, briefly allowing him to be as vulnerable as he needed. "I love you guys, and I'm going to take care of you, alright?"

"Alright," he breathed.

"So where do we start?" She almost regretted asking as the desperate, trapped looked contorted his features.

"We start with prayer and as many good luck charms as you can get."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Holy. Crap. 17 reviews in two days? I love you guys. You totally made my week. Here's another little piece of the puzzle. I do apologize for such short chapters. Hopefully, they'll get longer as the plot develops. But I felt like this was as good a place as any to stop this chapter, so here ya go! :P I still am a little uneasy about such a (seemingly) sparse writing style, so please let me know if/when it no longer appears to work. Read, review, and enjoy, my friends!


	4. Chapter 4

"What's all this?"

Donnie stared at the huge pile of...well, he wasn't entirely sure what comprised the mound. It looked like a metallurgist's attempt at a shrine to _Bambi._

April picked out a spotted ball of fur. "You said, and I quote, '...as many good luck charms as you can get.' I've got seven four-leafed clovers, seven rabbits' feet, and seven horseshoes I found in the barn. And," she paused as she took down a small glass jar from the mantle, "Casey's grandmother's rosary."

Don worked his jaw up then down slowly in an effort to curtail the approaching migraine. "You're getting as bad as Mikey."

She snickered.

"Well," he knelt to examine the odd assortment, "Can't hurt, I guess. But why _seven_?"

"Lucky number. And besides, there are seven of us, which I mean, seems like it ensures you're all going to get better."

_Unless you just jinxed us._ He shook away the intrusive pessimism.

She clapped him on the shoulder, and when he looked up, she tossed her head in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm going to start working on dinner."

He started to nod. "Dinner? But it's not even noon!"

"Exactly!" She said. "The best meals take all day to cook!"

Donatello rolled his eyes and made a mental note to keep tabs on how much Mikey and April hung out. He'd be the butt of a colossal prank before he knew it if he wasn't careful. He chuckled good-naturedly. "April" and "prank" in the same sentence frightened him almost as much as Michelangelo in his lab. Almost.

He swept his eyes over the well-worn furnishings. The couch had succumbed to more moths in the past months, and a few spongy pieces of cushion on the floor were stirred around when he opened the window. The fireplace was much cleaner; Casey's semi-regular upkeep had transformed the farm from a pigsty - no pun intended - to a dump. Improvement is improvement, Don supposed.

He and April had come out ahead of the other to ensure the house was in decent condition to support five wounded warriors. Leo, Mikey, Raph, and Splinter were all undergoing one last physical examination before being released from the Utrom's custody. She had helped him cleared out the first level and pushed all of the furniture against the walls to minimize the risk of tripping and re-aggravating injuries. And the family medic. Then they had pulled two air mattresses out of storage and added them to the existing bedroom that spanned the length of the second story. April had stripped the sheets and covers off the beds and put them on to wash while he had gone walking around the main pathways his family would be utilizing.

He knew the farm land was secluded and safe, set back as it was about eight miles from a main thoroughfare and embedded in dense pinewoods. But still, old habits had him checking the overall security of the trails close to the outer acres, the perimeter, the buildings. April had found him in the barn kicking molded straw and rusty scrap metal into piles, and she had called him back inside to run over their preparations one last time. And to throw a shell-load of good luck charms at him.

He smiled as he separated the amulets into piles, arranging them by size and having various mental versions of his two younger siblings taunting him about OCD for it. The smell of wild game and stir-fried vegetables wafted in, and his stomach growled happily.

"Hey, Don!" She called from the kitchen. "I think Casey's back. Are we going now?"

"Um, yeah. We can't do much more damage here."

He rose from his squat, and his eyes fell on the old rosary. Before he could check himself, he was absently fingering the beads and admiring the detailed craftsmanship of the crucifix. He looked long and hard into the eyes, and the only part of the Lord's Prayer he knew floated into his mind.

_Deliver us from evil._

* * *

><p>Leonardo knew he had been silent for most of the ride up to the farmhouse, and Donatello's penetrating stare was starting to get on his nerves. Don kept sliding his eyes around Mikey's shoulders and looking at him like he wanted to say something but knew better. Leo folded his arms together.<p>

"Don, if you've got something to say, just spit it out." He snapped.

The other four jolted when the comment cut through what stable peace there was in the trailer. Michelangelo swiveled his head around to Donatello, who had turned a half shade paler. "C'mon, Leo. You know how Donnie-boy gets when we're hurt. Probably just wants to make sure your arm won't fall off when he's not lookin'."

Don offered a grateful smile to Mikey, who in turn flashed a thumbs up.

Leo narrow his eyes at the silent exchange and puffed out a short breath. "Whatever."

He heard Raphael stirring around, no doubt trying to find a somewhat comfortable position. His brother hissed as the vehicle ran over a series of potholes.

"Hang on, Raph."

"Yeah...I know." His retort lacked the venom it usually had. His breaths came in short, infrequent bursts, and each one sounded more painful than the last. "Ain't like it...can...be helped."

Donatello nimbly maneuvered around Mikey's legs to kneel beside Raph. He laid a gentle hand on Raphael's plastron, just above the bandages. "I told you: deep breaths. It won't matter if your ribs heal but your lungs don't."

"I got...it the first hund...red times, Don."

"Then listen for once." The order was direct and clipped, and most definitely did not come from Donatello's gaping mouth.

It was the second time Leonardo had spoken up during the trip, and the second time ever he had spoken in a blunt challenge. He cocked his head at Raphael, as if waiting to be obeyed. Raph glowered at him and probably would have yelled or intentionally _not_ breathed if Don hadn't place a steady restraining hand on his forehead. Placated, he inhaled as fully as he could under Donnie's coaxing. "Ow."

"My son." Splinter had a distinct tone of voice he used to address each of them, and it was clear this time, Leonardo was in his crosshairs. "I know you are in much pain, as are we all, but that does not excuse your behavior. You will apologize to your brothers."

"Sorry." Leo spat the word out in a mildly subdued tone and hunkered further into the corner farthest from the others.

Michelangelo pushed himself into a more upright position and tried to reach past his knees before Don caught him and smacked him. Again. "Doonnniiieee, can I _puh-lease_ scratch my legs? It feels like I've got a horde of angry ants biting me!"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No!

He flopped dramatically into Don's arms. "Do you not care about your poor, crippled baby brother's suffering?"

"Do you want your legs to bleed into your boot and then have it congeal and rot right next to your foot?"

Mikey pursed his lips as if thinking about how viable a response Don had given. Seeing as he _was_ the super nerd, Mikey had a fifty/fifty chance of being lied to and not catching it. 'Cause Don was tricky like that. He could tell you something that sounded smart enough to be true without telling you the whole truth. Like a Jedi. Michelangelo grimaced. Pity he couldn't outrun a lightsaber at the moment. But that didn't stop him from worming his hands into the casts.

_Smack! _"Ow!"

"No scratching!"_  
><em>

Leonardo rolled his eyes. The van was scattering gravel like so much shrapnel that made a faint _ting ting_ as it ricocheted off of trees and hills alike. If he had to venture a guess, they were probably still a good two, maybe three, miles from the farmhouse. He couldn't wait to arrive. The air in the enclosed trailer was hot, stifling, and his own bandages were constricting more and more with each second. He shuffled listlessly.

Donatello inched his way over to him cautiously. "Can I check your dressings?"

"Sure." He pulled himself a little closer to the self-appointed medic, patiently tolerating the poking and prodding and stretching. "So what's eating you?' He winced as Don's eternally stoic expression slipped into something approaching panic.

"Uh...well…" He glanced over his shoulder at his family, and apparently satisfied they wouldn't hear, he continued, "Are...are you okay?"

He snorted. "I came within an inch of being internally decapitated, Don."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

The van slid to a stop, evoking groans from all aboard. Someone, probably April, was running toward the farmhouse to open the door, while the other fumbled with the padlock on the trailer. Leo stood, only to have his least injured shoulder pinned against the metal wall. Donnie arched his eyeridge meaningfully, clearly not about to let him go until he answered. He reined in a growl, determined not to let Don have any more on his plate than he could handle.

"I'm...I'm fine."

And with that, he pushed past Don and leapt out of the trailer.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, here I am again, apologizing for any missed typos. I have a tendency to upload around midnight, when my brain sees what it wants, not what's actually (and sometimes incorrectly) there. Thank you once again to all of my readers and my reviewers! *HUGS*

I promise I'm gonna try to expand on these chapters a little, but I kinda like this length for this story. What do y'all think? And is everyone still in character, flow still good, etc., etc.?


	5. Chapter 5

_The wind whipped around the gables, bemoaning the fate of the fallen structure. What was once serene, safe, stable had cracked like so much fine china and lay strewn about the grounds. He kicked a piece of the cobblestone walkway and watched apathetically as it rolled and rolled and rolled away. The air was dry, though he expected that after the fire. The blaze had been sudden and all consuming, gutting the landscape and leaving a charred skeleton behind. He had thought at first the red tint of the rivers reflected the amber and ocher hues of peaking flames, but as he dipped his hand into the water, he realized it was spoiled with blood. Gummy gore coated his hand with flecks of tissue and bone and rock from the riverbed. No matter how hard he shook his arm, the ichor clung to his skin. He could see the good, strong flesh of his fingers slowly pierced and now decaying. He only just had enough time to turn his head to vomit._

_Why was this happening? How had it all come to ruin? He shuddered. Another biting breeze blew across the barren terrain. He was so tired. So tired._

Tired? Worthless.

"_Who's there?" His voice was much sharper than he'd intended._

Pitiful.

"_Where are you?"_

Embarrassment. Failure. Dishonorable.

_He pressed his palms to his ears. "Stop."_

It's no wonder they blame you.

"_Stop it!" He felt his knees give, and he writhed on the ground._

You just couldn't find a way to save them. It's almost like you wanted them to die.

"_STOP IT!" He roared. "What else was I supposed to DO?"_

You poor creature. You poor, stupid creature.

"_I did everything right! I held onto my family, my clan, my honor! What more is there?"_

_The laughter grated on his nerves. Honor wasn't something you could live out whenever it was most convenient. It was your life or it was something you admired in someone else's. It divided the world, or parts of it, into black and white and left you to choose which side you were on. It wasn't a matter of not seeing shades of grey - to the true warrior, they didn't exist._

So how's that working out for you, true warrior? How does it feel to know that one of those shades of grey wanted to separate your head and your body?

_He stood in spite of the shaking in his legs and bolted before the deceptively sultry voice could throw anymore at him. He couldn't have said how long or how far he let his feet carry him, but after an eternity, the stinging in the soles of his feet overtook him, and he landed hard on a slab of granite. A choked laugh escaped him when he saw what appeared to be a bed. A bed! Not more than three feet in front of him and made entirely of rocks. It was just as blackened as everything else in this godforsaken place, but the weight on his heart blocked out all but rest. He was still laughing as he wriggled himself into a comfortable position. Drifting into unconsciousness, he was only vaguely disconcerted that the bunk resembled a sarcophagus…_

* * *

><p>Donatello rubbed his eyes, vainly trying to shake away the sleepiness. The entire fiasco with Sid had kept them all up past dawn. His brothers and master slept soundly even now, but he hadn't been so lucky. The sun brought with it more responsibilities: change the dressings, clean the wounds, administer painkillers, separate Raph and Mike, take vitals, separate Mike and Raph. He plodded down the stairs and into the kitchen, with eyes only for the coffee maker. He squinted. The <em>empty<em> coffee maker.

"Don?"

He jumped and turned sharply on his heel, adrenaline momentarily giving him the energy rush he sought. April started as well, no doubt surprised he hadn't heard her coming. "Sorry, April." He gestured to the coffee maker. "I was busy cursing my addictive nature."

She giggled as she leaned against the doorway. "Check the microwave."

"But it's all the way over _there._" He collapsed at the table in a show a theatrics that would have made Michelangelo proud.

April playfully tugged at his mask as she patiently opened the microwave oven and pulled out the largest coffee mug he had ever seen.

"Woman, you are an angel."

She laughed. "How do you take it?"

"However it is right now."

She obligingly set it in front of him. "So why are you still up?"

"Um...ugh," he made a face and peered into the cup. "Maybe I'll rethink taking it black." The one swig he'd choked down was enough to stir him into searching the refrigerator for milk or cream. "I've got a lot to do. Sleep is apparently for the patients not the doctor."

She cocked her head at him. "The doctor won't have a job much longer if he falls asleep while trying to care for his cases."

"I know, I know." He stretched his good arm above his head and yawned. "But once I'm up, I'm up." He shrugged then flinched, his bad arm jarred into his plastron.

She came around to his side and slid her fingers into the sling, loosening it slightly. "If you say so. Just don't ignore your own needs, 'kay?" She patted his neck and trotted outside for her morning run.

He sighed and drowned his worries in the lukewarm brew. He was relieved to see that the charts he'd left on the counter hadn't been moved. He pulled them onto the tabletop and hurriedly penned the morning's results. Chewing his lip, he realized that neither he nor Leonardo had eaten anything the past two meals. He irritably tapped his finger on the clipboard. The leftover vegetables in the fridge probably wouldn't taste as good cold, but they needed something in their systems. He glanced at the clock and pulled out two bowls. Leo never slept past nine.

And like clockwork, his older brother stole into the kitchen just as Don placed the odd breakfast at his spot on the table. Donnie proffered a small, welcoming smile as Leo took his seat. He tired to unobtrusively study his sibling, who seemed oblivious to his presence.

"Leo?"

His stomach dropped when Leonardo's eyes met his. Something looked almost..._dead_ behind the obsidian orbs. He cleared his throat. "Um...here. You need to eat something. Keep up your strength." He kept his voice down and his orders in the tone of suggestions, hoping to avoid being on the receiving end of Leo's sharp tongue.

Leo obeyed without question, picking apart the carrots and cauliflower. He'd finished about half of the bowl before stopping to look at it like he'd forgotten what he was doing. Setting down the cutlery, he stood. He left almost as quickly as he'd appeared, off on one of the dozens of trails that wound around the southern property line.

Donatello viciously stabbed a tomato. Today was going to be a long day. A muted _thump thump_ from upstairs was quickly followed by Mikey's maniacal laughter. He groaned, and setting his dishes in the sink, he headed up to prevent World War III from breaking out. A very long day.

* * *

><p>Splinter had had the foresight to tell April to keep Raphael's and Michelangelo's beds on opposite ends of the attic, the end result being only an hourly shouting match and the occasional flying piece of wood or insulation. At first, Raphael had been good-natured about the constant ribbing, probably feeling sorry that his baby brother just had both of his legs broken. But inevitably, as time wore on, he was less and less sympathetic and wishing more and more that the broom leaning on the far wall would fall on Mikey's head.<p>

Surprisingly, the rage he had been anticipating wasn't there. He concentrated on the fight - every swing, every kick, every throw. He forced himself to see the sparks that singed his master and the utterly helpless body of his eldest brother moaning on the floor. And as pissed as he was that they had lost, the loss was where his anger ended. Then he would shrug to himself and rationalize his unagitated demeanor with the fact that there was no one left at whom to direct his ire.

_Good riddance, bastard alien slug._

Okay, so maybe he wasn't as calm as he thought, but what had happened had passed, and the past rarely had any bearing on the present or the future. His reverie was abruptly broken when the brush part of the broom came sailing across the room and smacked him in the head, Mikey's stifled giggles in tow.

"You _do _know that...I _am..._gonna be able ta get up...again?" Fluffy bits of insulation snowed into a pile around his shoulders. "MIKEY!"

"You're not gettin' up any time soon, dude." Mikey did a little victory dance at the thought.

An exasperated sigh stopped Round 5 in its tracks. "Should you both not be occupied with recovering?"

"I am, Sensei! Laughter's the best medicine, after all, and Raphie here's gonna help me get better real quick. Mwahahaha…" he continued cackling as Raph groaned, wondering what life would be like without quite so many siblings.

Raph was almost relieved when the worry-wort shuffled up the stairs and shot a dark look to their baby brother.

"Mikey! How many times do I have to tell you…" He let the question trail off, knowing Mike only listened when he wanted. And when he was bored, he _never_ wanted.

"Yo, Donnie!" Raph called his brother into his line of sight. He looked rough. His eyes were almost swollen shut and his near-perfect posture faltered into a slump. "You...gotten any sleep?"

Don massaged his eyes and rolled his neck before kneeling to take Raph's pulse and temperature. "I'm okay." He did that little "Hmmm" all doctors do when they aren't happy with something. "You're a little warm."

"I've been laying in...the sun most...of the mor...ning."

"Yeah, Don! What's up with that? You put the one that can't move next to the window, and me waaayy over here in the dark corner! At least _I'd_ appreciate nature!"

Don mumbled to himself, "Right. What was I thinking?" He gently shook three doses of ibuprofen into his hand and made his way to his siblings and then his father. It hurt his heart to see Splinter only barely containing his pain. His sensei had been in constant meditation, focusing on his breathing and his healing. Don sunk smoothly into a _seiza_ before his master, then put his hand out before him, easing down until he was nearly prostrate in the most contrite position he knew.

"Father."

He felt Splinter tense, shuffling just enough to let his son know that he had been heard.

"I need to check your wounds."

"Very well." The reply was barely more than a whisper. Donatello eased the robe off of the rat's body and blanched at singed flesh. Blisters had bubbled up; some had already burst. There were some spotty patches of fur, but most of it had burned away. His skin was red and inflamed and radiated with heat. Splinter sibilated a curse in Japanese as Don examined him.

"I'm sorry, Sensei."

"It is not your fault, my son. Do not apologize."

"I...I'm going to have to cut away some of the dead flesh."

"Do as you see fit, _isha-san_."*

The compliment brought a small smile to Don's face. "Hai, Sensei." He trimmed off the dead skin as quickly as he could, thankful that Mikey and Raph let them alone so he could work. He fetched a bowl of lukewarm water from the second story bathroom. Rinsing the wound, he took note of its size and color, and once it dried, wrapped it back up.

"You are still stretching as I showed you?"

Splinter smiled. "Yes, my son."

"Good. Here are some painkillers." He bowed again to his master and stood. "I'll bring up some lunch when Casey gets back from the city."

"Speaking of which," Mikey waved one of his crutches at Don, "Not that I'm complaining 'cause I love the outdoors and being away from like the stink of the sewers and all, but how come we just didn't go back home?"

"Well, for one, I wasn't going to risk exposing us to the various pathogens that litter the sewers in our weakened state. And two," he paused looked around a bit to make sure only the three before him would hear. "Two, I didn't want the temptation of the city to have us out and about before we were ready."

Raphael grunted. "Meanin' ya didn't...think Leo'd stay...put."

Don wilted a little. Leonardo just had a way of worrying him. His shoulders were constantly bent under the weight of the world, and still he found room for them. Though they slipped and shifted in his unsteady grasp, never once had he let them fall.

_But he just refuses to see that it's okay for him not to be able to stand every now and then._

He shook his head. "Like I said, I'll bring up some food later."

"'ey, Donnie." Raph raised a hand to his brother's knee when he knelt. "Get some rest...while yer at...it."_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Leonardo pressed his palms to his eyes, blurring his vision. Alone and in relative silence for once, he had collapsed to his knees and let loose the most anguish howl creation had ever heard. The voices that had been poking at him from the moment Casey and Donatello had gathered them in the trailer came at him en masse. And he couldn't fight them any longer.<p>

When came down to the quick, he simply hadn't been ready. He hadn't been strong enough. He had known from the beginning of their fated siege on the Shredder's fortress that their foe would have the upper hand. Why had he always assumed that even dealt a horrific blow, the team he led would come out the victor? He had spent countless nights meditating on strategy, on every worst-case scenario he could think of. He hadn't thought of defeat. He had been ready. So sure, so confident in his ability to lead. So arrogant.

So _stupid._

He should have accounted for the unexpected. The Shredder was an alien, after all, and sooner or later, he would find a way to return to the stars. Hadn't Master Splinter's vision been proof enough of that?

_A true strategist knows to examine all sides of an issue._ He snorted. _Shell, a _child_ knows to look at all sides._

In the past, he would have been able to relive the battle, meditate on his shortcomings. He would have found and eliminated glaring weaknesses in their approach to the enemy. Grumble though they may, his family knew that his persistence made them a more efficient team. But he didn't have the luxury of a re-do this time. With the Shredder captured and exiled, Leonardo's legacy in battle was going to be that of a pathetic failure. And that certainty, that final inability to redeem himself….

"Rrraahhh!" His wrist protested being so violently thrown into the tree's root system.

_ I'll make it up to you guys, I swear on my life._

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting at the stream's edge when a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

"My son."

Leo remained unmoving. "I thought you would be resting, Sensei."

Splinter replied, "I would say the same to you, Leonardo."

Shame and remorse were threatening to break free of the shaky grip Leo had on them. He turned his head away from his father.

"Leonardo, did I ever tell you what happened the very first night after Master Yoshi died?"

Unsure where Splinter was going with this, he hesitantly answered, "Nooo…"

"I fell from the balcony window and laid the entire night in a puddle of muddy water. I had neither the will to move nor the desire to go on living. But it was not from the grief." He paused until Leo looked at him. "It was from my own failure. It had been my duty, my purpose, to fight for his life, and in the end, I could not save him."

"What...what did you...how did you get passed it?" Leo's answer was very quiet.

"Four infant turtles needed me. And I did not see in them what I had feared I would; I saw no malice, no condemnation. Just love and compassion."

"They were just babies."

"But they were still family. And even after they were much older and had learned of my history and faced my shortcomings, still I saw nothing but affection in them. And I knew then that they cared not about my mistakes nor how I felt I had to correct them."

Leo sighed and stood. "Kids are stupid like that."

Before Splinter could question him further, he nimbly jumped from stone to stone across the stream and vanished into the other side of the wood. Sensing his need for solitude, Splinter let it him go. How bitter Leonardo was becoming. But why? Why now? He had faced failure and fear before, and he knew his family was going to be there for him regardless. Troubled, the old rat gazed at the trembling tree tops and guessed which way his eldest pupil was heading.

He whispered a prayer for his son and turned to the farmhouse. It was probably best that Donatello not know about his midday excursion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ***I tried to find the Japanese word for 'doctor' (as in a medical doctor), and this was the word I kept coming across. I speak little to no Japanese, so any fluent speakers are welcome to correct me.

So this chapter turned out to be a little longer, and I think I'm alright with it. Questions, comments, concerns? Oh, and reviews? Please:)


	6. Chapter 6

April leafed through the stack of papers she'd collected since Wednesday. All the sections were present and accounted for, so she carefully opened the attic door and listened. Though it was nearly noon, two strong snores shook the rafters. She grinned as she bent to set the papers on the unoccupied bed. Mikey's head was tipped back over the easy chair, and Raph was glaring. She rolled her eyes and tugged away the pillow crushed in his hands before he decided he could throw it.

"Aw, c'mon!" He protested. "I seriously think...I'm dying from bor...boredom."

"Then allow me."

And before he could process the comment, she'd wound up her arm like a ballplayer and let fly the 'ball.' Mikey screamed as he awoke to a cloud of feathers and April's and Raph's choked laughter.

"Whaddidja do that for?" He blinked at both of them then grimaced as his head sank against the drool-soaked headrest.

Donatello chose that moment to saunter up the stairs with a tray of breakfast balanced precariously on his free arm. He raised an eyeridge at his youngest brother, who dutifully pointed at the two intently studying the far wall and trying to stifle their snickers. He shrugged and set the tray on an end table and began divvying up the breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fresh maple syrup. Then he spotted the trove April had placed in the corner.

Nearly delirious with joy, he asked, "For us?"

Both of his brothers wriggled into positions that allowed them to see the presents April had brought: several days' worth of newspapers.

"Yup. Thought you guys could do with something other than pillow fights for entertainment."

Raphael made no effort to hide the grin elicited by her pointed look as she helped him sit up and handed him a plate. "Thanks. Sports section?" He asked hopefully around his food.

"I want the comics! Me! Only me, over here, please, please, please!"

Don and April passed around the papers and food, respectively, and Don claimed the puzzles section. He set the world and local news into two separate piles for the absent family members. Settling into the nook he'd claimed as his own, he finished the first two sudokus within ten minutes and hardly noticed that his head was slowly dipping closer and closer to his chest. The last thing he remembered was April chuckling as she patted his shoulder and pulled a blanket close around his neck.

"Get some rest, Donnie."

* * *

><p>Around three in the afternoon, Master Splinter hobbled up the staircase and back on to the cot they had laid out for him. His legs trembled under the strain of movement, and even he was unable to suppress a small grunt of pain. Donatello breathed a huge sigh of relief. He had figured that his sensei would go after Leonardo at some point, and he knew he had no power to stop the outing. His stomach churned nervously as his mind brought forth all the possible things that could have happened or hadn't happened yet, and he made a mental note to pay extra attention to Splinter...and Leo if and when he returned.<p>

The midmorning nap had helped tremendously. He'd awoken to Mikey and Raph trying to trade sections of the paper. Mikey had scooted his chair as close to Raph as he could and was attempting to throw the section to his brother. Sensing that it would probably end badly and with a second turtle flat on his back, Don slipped out of the attic and left them to their own devices. He'd spent the early part of the afternoon fretting after his father and older brother, and the rest with April in the kitchen. She'd insisted on making dinner for them tonight, and quite honestly, he was too tired to argue. Though it had only been seventy two hours since they had been given an "All Clear" from the Utroms to return to Earth to heal, he was honestly forgetting what it was like to live uninjured and fully capable of moving.

_I hate being helpless._

"What was that, Donnie?"

April looked from the pot of soup she was making. Crap. Had he said that out loud?

"Nothing, April." He kept his voice upbeat, but could not mask the worry in his tone. He could see the dark circles that were trying to form under her eyes. Her hair had almost fallen down, and he could have sworn she had been wearing that shirt for the past three days. "Here, lemme finish that. You need a break." He led her to the table, surprised she put up very little fight. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please." She gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek as he set the mug in front of her. He spun around to the stove, but kept his ear inclined to her to let her know he was listening. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately."

Don nearly choked on spoonful of broth in his mouth. He spluttered, "What are you talking about? You've been such a big help! You and Casey!"

"I guess." She ran a hand through her hair, making a face when she found an impressive knot in it. "Gahh...when you guys decide to get hurt, you really decide to get hurt."

He chuckled and turned off the eye on the stove. "Hungry?"

"Nah. But I could _really_ do with a shower and a change of clothes." She stopped as a thought occurred to her. "Aw, great. I left everything at home." She sighed, thoroughly disgusted. The old farmhouse had undergone many a repair in recent years, but the installation of a washer and dryer was not one of them. Clothing had to be washed by hand, which he could tell was not something she was up for at the moment. And even if she had had the machines to wash her stuff, it was more than likely that Casey had neglected to buy any detergent or any toiletries for that matter.

He patted her shoulder. "Go on, get some things from the city, and check on the shop. We'll be fine for a few hours." He tucked a few loose strands of her hair back in place and smiled as he handed her her keys. He was so proud of her and so grateful that she cared as much as she did. They wouldn't have made it this far without her or Casey.

She engulfed him in a hug. "Thanks. Do you need Casey for anything? I may get him to come with me. He needs clean clothing worse than I do."

He laughed. "Nah, we'll be fine. And it'll give him something to do for a bit. I think he's actually worse than Michelangelo when he's bored." Don squeezed her hand briefly, then turned back to his task as he listened to her footfalls on the front porch after the door clicked shut. Satisfied that she was gone, he dipped out three bowls of soup then covered the large pot. Carrying a tray with hot bowls of soup up one of the longest flights of stairs in existence using one arm was slow going.

"Alright, food! Finally!" Michelangelo rubbed his hands together.

Don rolled his eyes and handed Mike his dinner. "I can't imagine why giving you more energy his a good idea."

Ignoring his brother's comment-and neglecting a 'thank you' Don noted-Mikey shoveled the soup in his mouth as fast as he could. Shaking his head, Donnie placed the second bowl in front of his sensei, kneeling and bowing in respect and love. Splinter's eyes were shut in meditation, but a smile flickered across his face. Rising again, Donnie's gaze landed on Raphael, whose stare was boring a hole in the rafters.

"You hungry?"

His moodiest patient gave a noncommittal shrug and then winced at the movement. "Broke ribs suck."

The brother inside Donatello laughed sympathetically. The doctor inside Donatello couldn't help laying a hand on Raph's forehead. He still felt a little warm. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess. Arm hurts a little."

Donatello smiled reassuringly to hide the fear draining the blood from his face. "Hurts a little" was Raph-speak for "hurts like hell." It had been about four hours since Raph had been given any medication. Normally, Don would have liked to have waited until six or seven hours had passed before administering another dose, but he knew Raph had to be hurting to even think about saying something. He shook two more pills into his hand and helped his brother sit up to take them. Gently laying Raph back down on his good arm, he pulled the blanket up only to Raphael's waist, watching him as he closed his eyes in an effort to block the pain and get a little rest before Mikey got going again. Don unwrapped the bandage on his brother's arm only half way. He took note of the wound's color and amount of swelling but saw nothing to warrant alarm. Still, it might be prudent to clean and redress it once Raph woke up.

Michelangelo waved one of his crutches at Donatello as the latter rose. "He-ey! How come Raphie gets more pills? You savin' the good stuff for me?"

"Heh, yeah. I'm going to come back up here and sedate you if you don't leave him alone for a few minutes. Let me know if any of you need anything, 'kay?" He tossed over his shoulder as he descended the stairs.

"Dessert?" Mikey hopefully called after him.

* * *

><p>Michelangelo's bellows shook the rafters. "You want <em>me<em> to do _what_?"

"Donatello, are you sure?"

Don passed a hand over frustrated eyes. "No, I'm not sure-" Michelangelo chimed in a "Thanks for the vote of confidence." "-but what choice do we have really, Leo?" Don wrung out the damp cloth and placed it on Raph's forehead.

He had come up to the second story just before midnight to make sure that his brothers were comfortable. Leonardo had been conspicuously absent, which did wonders for Don's fragile nerves, and Michelangelo had passed out in the chair again, mouth open and all. Splinter was laying on the cot with his back to his son. Don smiled as he pulled a cover over his father, and then turned his attention to Raphael.

Raph had gradually developed a fever throughout the day. Even then, he trembled in the throes of illness.

"Hey, Raph." He called gently.

Raph blinked at him sleepily. "….mmmhey."

"I'm gonna change your bandages now, 'kay?" It was funny how he only slipped into slang when he was around Raph. The latter had nodded his ascent to the midnight medical procedure. Donnie pulled the dressing apart and drew a sharp breath. It had gotten worse. It had gotten so much worse. The skin around the cut was an angry red and inflamed, and incision itself was somewhere between black and gold in color.

"Damn, no!"

He sat back away from Raph, who had passed out again as his body tried to contend with the infection. No, no, no. This was not happening. He didn't have the material to deal with a serious medical complication! He needed his lab, his equipment, heck, even his sewing kit! What was he supposed to do? Stunned beyond belief, Donnie had simply sat with his face buried in the crook of his good elbow which was resting on his knees. And that was how Leo had found him.

"What's wrong? Don?" Leo couldn't keep the panic out of his voice. Don's face was utterly devoid of emotion.

"Raph."

"What about Raph?" Leo shook his sibling, trying to snap him out of his daze.

"Infection."

And then Leo saw it, the mess that was once his brother's arm. He stumbled backward as if he'd been slapped. "What...what are we supposed to do?"

Leo was looking to him for guidance. He sneered, "We're _supposed_ to give him powerful antibiotics and lots of fluids through an IV. We're _actually capable_ of giving him over-the-counter painkillers and throwing holy water on him."

Splinter and Michelangelo had been woken up by the murmured exchange, forcing Don to repeat the horrible news. Mikey starting shaking like he had when they were little and he was frightened and managed to inch his way over to his unconscious brother. "Raphie?" Raph turned his cheek into Mikey's cool palm, bringing tears to the latter's eyes.

Into Mikey's hand...a good hand...no, two good hands…

"That's it!" Don's eye brightened even as he gave every one of his family a heart attack with his scream. "We can cauterize the wound. Leo, go kindle a fire downstairs. As hot as you can make it, with green and blue flames within the orange. Wash off this knife well-" he pulled the _tanto_ from his belt and palmed it to his sibling "-and let it rest in the fire once you think it's hot enough. We're doing this old school."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **A short, sweet little chapter for the wait. I thought about making it longer, but I probably would have cut it somewhere in the middle of the story's climax, which I didn't want to do. I did my best to proofread it, but I've been working a lot of nights lately, sooo...apologies if I missed something.

Oh, something I wanted to explain: I know I've mentioned Casey a lot, but never actually had a scene with him in it. He's probably the most difficult character for me to write because his personality is so simple. I just don't what to do with him. And I know I've had plenty of April scenes, and that's because her interactions with the turtles (especially Donnie) come very naturally. So, yeah. There ya go, a little peak into the inner workings of my mind.

So. Thoughts, questions, comments? And again, my checklist: everyone's in character, flow is good, length of chapters seems to work, etc., etc.? A huge thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited this story! Loveyameanit!

**A/N, pt 2:** So I thought about this for a few hours and realized that it seemed too filler-ish, and I added on a little of the next chapter (the last scene), just to keep everyone interested. Better? And I'm apologize to everyone who didn't see this part. I will put another note at the beginning of ch. 7 telling readers about the changes.**  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **FOR READERS OF CH. 6 that DIDN"T see the changes I made to it, I made some changes. Imagine that. I added on an extra scene that would have been part of this chapter, and you do need to at least skim it to know what's about to go down in this one.

FOR ALL READERS, I am warning you now that this chapter will (hopefully) be a graphic depiction of a harsh medical procedure. I said to myself as I was writing this that until **I **couldn't read it without squirming, it wasn't ready. Then I remembered I have a very strong stomach (meaning I didn't flinch when I had to skin and dissect a cat in college A&P lab), sooo...yeah, I didn't want it **that** graphic either. With any luck, I found a happy medium.

I'm going to try to have a friend beta-read this chapter for me, so check back every now and then to see if any major changes have taken place. I will put an update above this note if/when they have. I think I'll have one (maybe two) more chapter(s) to wrap it all up nicely after this one. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Don rummaged around in the bathroom and kitchen cabinets, searching for iodine or peroxide. He swore when he found neither. They must have used it all.<p>

_Okay, what do we have? What do we have?_

He barely noticed the hailstorm of pills and gauze and tongue depressors pooling around his feet as he tore apart the medicine cabinet. A bottle of rubbing alcohol sat in a corner littered with dust bunnies. There might have been a tablespoon of liquid left in it. He scowled but ran back to his makeshift operating room with it anyway. He'd had Master Splinter get Raph onto a cot. His brother's head rested on his sensei's lap, feverishly shaking from side to side.

"Sensei."

Splinter looked up from tracing Raphael's brow. His own pain paled in comparison to the agony eliciting raw moans from his strongest child. Don handed him the bottle and a roll of toilet paper. "Use all that you can of this to clean the area three inches around the wound."

Splinter nodded as Don bolted to the stairway. "Leo?"

"Yeah?" came the reply from below.

"How's the fire?"

"Going strong. About to lay the knife in it, and -"

"Did you wash it?"

"No, I'm going to let a dirty combat knife dig the pus out of my brother's shoulder," the eldest snapped.

Donnie rolled his eyes. "Put the poker from the fireplace in the flames as well. Make sure both are literally red hot."

Sarcasm was dripping off of every word of Leo's answer. "Don't I need to clean that first, too?"

Donatello bit back the first five replies that sprung to his lips, opting to glare at his older sibling through the stairway's railing before turning to prep his younger ones for the operation. Michelangelo was curled up next to Raphael and Splinter, keeping one had on his brother and one his father.

"Mikey?"

Frightened sky blue eyes snapped up and his lips were quivering so hard that Don was surprised when he spoke. "I-I...don't w-wanna do this, D-donnie."

Donatello's heart nearly broke from the pained plea. He knelt and lay his hand on his baby brother's cheek. He kept his voice smooth but authoritative. "I know, _ototochan_, I know. But I need you to."

"Why does this always happen to us, _nii-san_?"

Turning his head aside for a moment, Don drew a shaky breath. He elected not to answer the question as he dipped the washcloth tucked in his belt into the warm water in the bowl he had brought from the bathroom. Gently he took each of Mikey's hands and wiped them clean from his fingertips to the crook of his elbows.

"Let me do it."

All of them started at the sharp voice cutting across the tense air. Leonardo was a fairly imposing figure holding two glowing pieces of fired metal. Don _almost_ backed down from the near feral snarl that was fast becoming a permanent fixture upon Leo's face.

"But you can't."

"Says who?"

The challenging retort finally cracked Don's nerves. In under a second, he was face-to-face with his mildly startled brother. He slowly and more than a little patronizingly enunciated, "Leonardo. You. Cannot. Do. This."

Leo shifted into a more solid position, legs apart and slightly bent, and Don knew that if he hadn't had his hands full, his arms would be crossed. It was a stance he took when one of them stepped out of turn in practice or directly disobeyed a command in the field. His eyeridges were raised a fraction of an inch more than usual, giving away his shock that, of all his family, Donatello would so openly defy him.

The would-be surgeon stiffened as a fleeting glance passed between Donnie and their Master. The old rat gave a barely perceptible nod, which was all Don needed to spin sharply on his heel and speak to the clan _chunin._

"We've got one shot to get this right, and Raph needs a surgeon with two good hands. Look at us. My arm is broken. Your shoulders are damaged. Sensei may have no cuts or broken bones, but the burns are paining him and causing him to shake. I do not trust myself, him, or you with a _needle_ at this moment, never mind a fired makeshift _scalpel_. Michelangelo is our only choice, so suck it up and get out of my way."

Mikey, clearly still unenthused about his latest undertaking, seemed to have taken a cue from Leo to try and find a way out of it. "What about April or Casey?"

Don veritably roared in frustration. "HE DOESN'T HAVE THAT MUCH TIME!"

~*.*~

_See how he blames you. It's in his face: 'What makes you think I'll let your calls cost me my brothers again?' Listen to the distrust in his voice. Taste the stress emanating from his posture at the thought of you._

Leave me be.

_You cannot protect them. You are not strong enough._

Please...I just...don't _care_ anymore.

_Sleep, my weak one. Sleep, and awake invigorated to change._

But I…

_Just sleep. Just drift away._

...but...alright...

_~*.*~_

Leo swallowed thickly against the guilt and nodded his agreement. He stood off to the side as Don murmured instructions to Splinter and Michelangelo. His sensei traced the inner lip of his ill brother's carapace and settled into a more comfortable position. He gently rubbed at Raph's jaws until they grudgingly slacked, allowing him to insert a thin pine twig.

"Sensei, you are going to have to hold him down," Don said quietly. "At least until he passes out from the pain."

Splinter shut his eyes briefly against the emotional turmoil within and lithely moved his hands to his son's torso. Sighing, he tied off the belt wrapped around Raphael's shoulder that constricted blood flow enough that his son would not bleed out from the new cut.

Don dipped a paper towel into the water bowl and steadily ran it against the length of the injury. Raph tensed and let loose a soft groan around the stick as a stream of pale yellow and deeper gold trickled across his shoulder. Donnie wiped it away quickly, and after digging out what he could see, he gently patted the unwilling sawbones' shell.

"Mikey, you can do this, okay?"

Michelangelo's eyes were fixed on the wound as he nodded mutely. Under Don's direction, he slid the edge of the _tanto_ to the fullest end of the incision and, holding his breath, pressed the blade swiftly into the battered flesh. The angle of the cut was straight and true. Jarred from the edge of blissful unconsciousness, Raphael howled in anguish as tissue was sheared from underlying muscle. The involuntary clamour shook everyone of his family to their core, so unaccustomed to his succumbing to pain were they. Nothing happened at first. Then an abrupt gush of red stained the wood floor. Splinter's robe was moist with the sticky liquid and Don quickly (but respectfully) ordered his sensei to strip. Hearing the urgency in his son's voice, Splinter shrugged himself out of the contaminated robe and removed it from the sterile environment.

"Don, why is he bleeding so much?" Panic threw Mikey's words into a shrill octave.

"You just cut him; why do you think?" rejoined the calmer of the two. Don peered into the sea of red, looking for clean and clear blood flow. "Open up the wound a little more, like a baked potato." Mikey grimaced as he pulled apart the cut inch by inch, feeling the erratic _bump bump bump_ of the heartbeat in the pulp. His hands grew warm with his brother's blood, and he couldn't help but notice how soft the inner muscle tissue was. His stomach churned violently against the observation. "I think you got it all in one stroke, Mike! Leo, take the knife and give him the poker."

The oldest and youngest brothers traded tools, and Michelangelo firmly pushed the flattest side of the instrument against the arm. A slight hiss and a quick puff of steam rose from the limb. Raph squirmed against his father's restraining hold, nearly begging for the procedure to stop. Splinter was close to sitting on his son when the bite of the pain finally made its way to Raphael's brain and ordered it to shut down for a while. The father sighed and made sure that the arm was still in Michelangelo's reach.

Mikey sat back as Don looked over the first of at least five burns that would need to be made to complete the seal. The carved section of Raph's arm came up and away from the sinew in a shallow V and a slow continuous stream of blood ran out over the edges of the cut. Heat radiated from the burned end as he held his hand over the vivid pink flesh. No blood came from it. "Okay, Mikey. Keep treating it exactly like that, steady pressure and exposure. Careful, careful…don't worry too much about the epidermis; it will treat the seal like a minor burn..."

Mike barely noticed as the clan medic trailed off into increasingly technical jargon. The youngest of them nodded every now and then when Don's voice pitched into a question, though he had no idea what he was being asked. He tried to push exactly what he was doing and to whom he was doing it from his mind until, finally, his vision was no longer tinted crimson. He felt Leo worming the poker from his hand and let it fall with a loud _clank_ before he stood against one crutch and calmly hobbled his way over to the window and retched. A careful hand held back the ends of his bandana and let him heave until nothing was left in his stomach.

"We're so proud of you, Michelangelo-chan."

Wiping his mouth, he hoarsely said, "Donnie, _please_ don't quit your day job."

Donnie chuckled and knelt to untie the belt from around Raphael's shoulder joint and tie it back around his own waist. He exhaled in relief, laying Raph's arm on a clean towel so that it was exposed to the cool night air wafting in through the window. The fur around Splinter's eyes pinched, catching a couple of unchecked tears and showing his age and his gratitude that he still had all four of his children.

"Everyone wash up and move Raph away from anything that might still be a biohazard."

The attic was a hub of activity as it was cleaned. Leo quietly mopped up the blood, somewhat disconcerted to see that some of it had congealed to the hardwood flooring. A growing pile of used rags and towels and water was left in one corner of the attic to be dealt with tomorrow. Don noted Raphael's pulse and respiration rate before laying a hand on his patient's forehead. Though slick with sweat, the skin beneath his fingers was cooler. He massaged his temple, taking solace in the broken fever.

"Don?"

He glanced up to see his family looking at him curiously. "He's gonna be okay." His gaze sharpened suddenly. "And if any of you get any ideas…"

They all chuckled at the small joke, exhaustion seeping in with the moonlight. Splinter nuzzled Raphael's face one last time before shuffling over to the couch. Mikey blanched at the thought of having to travel to the other side of the attic _again_ and opted instead to curl up beside his brother, knowing that as long as he was close to Raph, the nightmares would stay away, and Leo permitted himself a taut smile before hunkering down on the window ledge to keep watch over them.

~*.*~

_Rest well, weak one. Shield them as best you can from their nightmares._

I'm trying. They need me to be stronger.

_You will be. Awake invigorated to change._

Change, indeed.

_~*.*~_

Dr. Don made his last rounds for the night, but set his cell phone to go off in two hour intervals until dawn. He would only give himself permission to relax once Raph made it through the night. During the next few hours of restless tossing, Donnie heard a sharp crunching on the perimeter, followed by the smooth purr of an engine. Unsurprisingly, one male and one female voice drifted up as two sets of boots landed softly on the front threshold. Leo was nowhere to be seen, so he was probably downstairs filling April and Casey in on the excitement. Don heard a sharp gasp from below, confirming his theory.

"I-is he okay?"

"He'll be fine. He's resting now."

"Can we see 'im now?"

"No."

Don utterly gaped at Leo as he trudged back up the stairs and resumed his vigil at the window. April tread a little too carefully and hesitated at the doorway. The faint light caught a glint on her cheeks as she met his eyes. He clenched his fist and mouthed, "I'm sorry" to her and Casey, who had snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Casey narrowed his eyes at a point just past Donatello's shoulders, where Leo stood. Don looked briefly at Splinter, who lay with his eyes open and trained on his unsleeping sons, then back to their two friends. Casey wiped at the runaway tears as Donnie approached them.

"Raph's going to be fine. I'm just checking his vitals out of sheer paranoia." He took April's hand and promised, "You can see him tomorrow. He _does_ need rest right now from the...operation."

"Mmkay," she mumbled halfheartedly. He could tell Leo's blunt answers were still hurting her. But before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and strode to her room, leaving a stunned Casey gazing longingly at the door.

Casey peered at him. "G'night, I guess."

"Um, yeah. See you in the morning."

Raphael's ragged breathing evened off through the night, and by sunrise, he was sleeping as if the whole horrid event had never happened. As Donnie was checking Raph vitals one last time before crashing until breakfast, Leo stirred himself from his post and nimbly ducked out the window. Shutting his eyes, Don listened to the faint footfalls spread evenly from barn the timberline before taking off in a brisk sprint, the ring of steel in their wake. He heard a deep sigh from the couch and flashed his father a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Good morning, Master Splinter."

"Good morning, my son."

Ever the cautious doctor, Don rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stepped carefully around Mikey, and grabbed the cool cloth by the window sill to wipe lingering perspiration from his brother's face.

"...mmmhey...that's cold." Raph protested weakly. He tried to swat the rag off his head, and only succeeded in patting Donnie's arm with a lot less force than he'd intended.

Don chuckled. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold." He insisted stubbornly. "Get that thing...offa me."

With a crooked grin still plastered on his face, Don complied and pulled the cover that had pooled at Raph's knees back up to his chest. "Need anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good." Raph laid a feeble hand on his brother's arm and gave it a quick squeeze. "Thanks, Doc."

Don rose to go and had made it to the top of the stairs when Raph called him back. "Hmm?"

"I guess I got...one question."

"Mmkay."

"Why didja think it...was a good i...dea ta let Mikey...at me with a sharp object?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Soo? What did you think of Dr. Mikey? And don't worry, Leo's not going crazy (...okay, not yet. Season 4 covered what happened when insanity takes over.). I just needed a way to really show the thought patterns behind his attitude change.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Please, thanks, loveyameanit!


	8. Chapter 8

Wake me up in the middle of the night

These dreams keep chasing me

_He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep. His limbs were stiff from disuse, cramping and sore as he stretched. Not much had changed. The landscape lay barren from the fire, the horizon still hazy with smoke. He stumbled around the darkened land. Ash and grit shifted between his toes as he took one unsteady step after the other. It didn't take him long to find his way back to the ruins. _

Am I ever gonna exorcise these demons

I guess we'll wait and see

_He was just parallel to them, standing on one of the hills he assumed he must have climbed before. The dusty walls peeked up at him. The structure seemed frozen in time, as if someone had suddenly stopped its construction and let it wither away. Tools lay in front of the walls faces and door. A hammer, some nails, a screwdriver, saw...tools to cut away the old and rebuild...tools just waiting for the right hands. He snorted. Wasn't gonna be him._

* * *

><p><em>Been walking these same old streets<em>

_For a thousand years it seems_

Leonardo blinked into the sunlight pouring in from the attic window and look around the upper level of the farmhouse. Empty. He sighed. The meditations were becoming more difficult. In the weeks following Raphael's..."surgery"...all he could sense was a black mist. It wasn't looming or dangerous in nature...just..there...dense and immobile. He shook himself and stood, nudging his cot into something that resembled a roll before heading out to join his brothers.

_I don't wanna ever lose myself_

_I don't ever wanna be caught refusing help_

"FI-nally! I'm free!" Mikey yelled with joy and bounced around his family. Then he caught sight of his legs. The skin that had been under the cast was cracked and dry and several shades lighter than the rest of his body. "EW!"

Rolling his eyes, Don approached Raph, who had never been more thankful to be able to stand upright. Don unwound the bandages around his rib cage first, then carefully undid the dressing on the arm. That wound had healed nicely, leaving only a pale viridescent line. Raph twisted his arm around, getting a good look at it. "Awesome scar." He lightly punched his little brother in the shoulder. "Thanks." Mikey grinned with the pride he heard in Raph's voice before running off to do a few victory flips.

_Can't hold me down_

_Can't hold me back_

'_bout to blow like a volcano_

Michelangelo bounced and hurrah'd himself right into Leo and shrunk away slightly when his big brother glared at him. "Sorry, bro. Sheesh."

"I...it's alright, Mikey." Leo seemed like he wanted to say more then changed his mind, shutting his mouth with a light click. He turned back to their master, sibling already forgotten.

"Once you round the bend to the north," Master Splinter was saying, "there will be a 'turn', if you will, on the west side of the river just a few miles ahead. It should not take you more than a day to reach the lake."

Leo finished copying down the directions and stuff them in his pack. Donnie made his way over to him carefully, as though expecting his elder brother to bite him. Donatello pulled out a pair of scissors to cut away the dressings around Leo's torso. The sound of metal scraping bone made his teeth grind but he stood as still as he could. A mound of gauze was growing at his feet as Don snipped, and then gasped and jumped back.

_It's not the end, time to begin_

'_bout to blow like a volcano_

Leonardo rounded on his brother, only to hear similar, strangled breaths coming from the rest of his family. Even Mikey's celebrations were halted. Leo took stock of himself quickly, before noting what appeared to be a large stone on the wrappings...

He swore lightly. A piece of his shell.

_In the night sky, gonna burn bright_

_Gonna erupt like you've never seen it_

He didn't remember running from the gathering, only that he was out of breath by the time he got to the bridge. He didn't remember picking up the misshapen piece of his shell, and he didn't remember tucking it into his belt, but he assumed he must have done all three, for he was looking out over the New York landscape, panting and fingering the lost piece of bone. For all he was worth, he'd tried to bury the inadequacy, the failure, the fear. He'd tried to...to forgive or at least forget his attacker... But this...he couldn't leave this. He couldn't erase it. He wore the punishment of his sins for all the world to see.

He roared, heaving the fragment as far as he could out from the bridge and watched it sink into the river.

_It's not the end, time to begin_

'_bout to blow like a volcano_

He stayed by the bridge until the others caught up, casting sidelong glances at him when they thought he didn't notice. He sagged a little on his post and leaned on the railings. They were going to wait until sunset to set out, in case some of the locals were also taking advantage of the warm mountain spring and roaming the riverside. No one said anything to him beyond offering him the backpack he'd left in his haste. He was spent, empty, void. He felt himself becoming a shadow of the Fearless Leader they named him. He glanced out across the country side, knowing he was fading into the astral plane. The horizon he saw mixed into the one they didn't, until the sun appeared to be setting on the ruins of a paper dojo, and the river was ablaze.

_All you're gonna see_

_All you're gonna see_

_Are the ashes, the ashes_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>*Don't know if songfics are still allowed (yes, it's been that long), but the lyrics come from "Volcano" from Rapture Ruckus feat. Jonathan Tuilin. If they aren't, enjoy the read-through with them, then let me know, and I'll repost and edited version without them.

To the readers I still have following this story, I deeply apologize for taking so long to finish it. If you didn't read the A/N at the end of "In the Space of An Hour," I had part of this on my computer all this time, and I apparently thought that it was complete and posted. Only recently going through my old stuff did I realize this wasn't the case. I hope that this is a satisfactory closing to my interpretation of this chapter in the series. Please let me know, and thank you for reading.

P.S. If you go read the above mentioned one-shot, before you ask, the character in question is whoever you want it to be. The one-shot is meant to be a conversation/story starter -I want you to think of why you think it's a particular turtle, why it is not the others, what led to the shadows of events that I mentioned. I personally read it as Michelangelo, because I want to explore how his life changed during the SAINW timeline. Someone asked if it was Raphael, which makes sense because Raph's always been one of the first to find trouble.

P.S.S. I know I'm cruel to leave that note here and not on the actual story. I just wanted to see what kind of reaction it would get before I told you how I envisioned it. :P


End file.
